“Mr. Nobody. Litnov had his by post. It was signed ‘Seven,’ and gave him the rendezvous, and that was all. He says he has never seen a Frog since he was initiated. Where he was sworn in he doesn’t remember. The car belongs to Frogs, and he receives so much a week for looking after it. Ordinarily he is employed by Heron’s Club—drives a truck for them. He tells me that there are twenty other cars cached in London somewhere, just standing in their garages, and each has its own driver, who goes once a week to give it a clean up.” “Heron’s Club—that is the dance club which Lola and Lew Brady are interested in!” said Dick thoughtfully, and Elk considered. “I never thought of that. Of course, it doesn’t mean that the management of Heron’s know anything about Litnov’s evening work. I’ll look up that club.” He was saved the trouble, for the next morning, when he reached the office, he found a man waiting to see him. “I’m Mr. Hagn, the manager of the Heron’s Club,” he introduced himself. “I understand one of my men has been in trouble.” Hagn was a tall, good-looking Swede who spoke without any trace of a foreign accent. “How have you heard that, Mr. Hagn?” asked Elk suspiciously. “The man has been under lock and key since last night, and he hasn’t held any communication with anybody.” Mr. Hagn smiled. “You can’t arrest people and take them to a police-station without somebody knowing all about it,” he said with truth. “One of my waiters saw Litnov being taken to Mary Lane handcuffed, and as Litnov hasn’t reported for duty this morning, there was only one conclusion to be drawn. What is the trouble, Mr. Elk?” Elk shook his head. “I can’t give you any information on the matter,” he said. “Can I see him?” “You can’t even see him,” said Elk. “He has slept well, and sends his love to all kind friends.” Mr. Hagn seemed distressed. “Is it possible to discover where he put the key of the coal cellar?” he urged. “This is rather important to me. This man usually keeps it.” The detective hesitated. “I can find out,” he said, and, leaving Mr. Hagn under the watchful eyes of his secretary, he crossed the yard to the cells where the Russian was held. Litnov rose from his plank bed as the cell door opened. “Friend of yours called,” said Elk. “Wants to know where you put the key of the coal cellar.” It was only the merest flicker of light and understanding that came to the little man’s eyes, but Elk saw it. “Tell him I believe I left it with the Wandsworth man,” he said. “Um!” said Elk, and went back to the waiting Hagn. “He said he left it in the Pentonville Road,” said Elk untruthfully, but Mr. Hagn seemed satisfied. Returning to the cells, Elk saw the gaoler. “Has this man asked you where he was to be taken from here?” “Yes, sir,” said the officer. “I told him he was going to Wandsworth Prison—we usually tell prisoners where they are going on remand, in case they wish to let their relatives know.”